


All Wrapped Up In Glass

by sugacariad (Iyatiku)



Series: Captain and Lionheart [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, daisuga - Freeform, platonic oisuga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 16:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iyatiku/pseuds/sugacariad
Summary: There's a side to Daichi that his team never sees. Suga sometimes wishes he didn't have to see it either.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago as two parts of the OTP challenge but never got around to posting it anywhere/completing the challenge so I figured it was time to put some closure on it. Set just after their win against Aoba Johsai. Featuring my volleyball hipster duo: princess Oikawa Tooru and part time supermodel, Sugawara Koushi.

It dawned on him slowly, like a tremor growing into a shake into an earthquake. An optimism with cracks that grew and shrunk day to day, sometimes with a pat to the back and sometimes with a cheer that flew into the air for someone else, and not for him. It lurched and swayed and ground to a halt at the worst of times, like now, in Daichi’s kitchen.               

“I thought your Mom would be home at least?” Suga asked more than stated, hoping it would prompt some kind of reaction, or some kind of explanation, or just add some kind of meaning to his behaviour.          

“She’s in the city, Dad went with her.”

“They didn’t want to come to the match?”

From his place next to the fridge, boxing up what was left of their dinner, Daichi shrugged. He moved from surface to surface: wiping, drying, putting away. Suga watched him from the doorway, not really watching. Waiting. He caught his boy’s arm as he passed, stopped his rhythm. “We should ice that face a little before bed. Sit down, I’ll get it.” He said with a soft smile.

The uneasiness grew; as he bagged the ice, as he slipped off his jacket and sunk down next to Daichi. The longer the silence lasted, the more nervous Suga became. He lifted the ice to his face and the boy flinched. “You shouldn’t have come back to the match. Should have stayed and rested.” He remarked, to more silence. “Chikara-kun was doing well, almost too well.” He let out a small laugh “I’d watch your back-“

“I know I messed up Suga,” Daichi spat, knocking his hand away with the force of his body’s rotation “you don’t have to keep reminding me.”

Suga didn’t speak. He placed the ice down and hesitantly lifted his fingers to the bruise on his boy’s face. “How’s your gum feeling? I could go and get-“

“It’s fine.” He swatted Suga’s hand away. The gesture wasn’t surprising, but the intention behind it took him aback. “I’m fine. You don’t need to stay and look after me.”

He wanted to put it down to exhaustion, and pain, but he knew better. And he wished he didn’t.

“I don’t want to leave you in the house alone after a hit to the head.” Suga explained as simply as possible. He could feel the agitation rolling off Daichi in stuttered, cloudy waves. This wasn’t regular anger, not like what the volleyball gym saw so often, with the silence and then the laughter and the explosion. Suga knew what to do with that; how many steps back would keep his ears and nerves safe from harm, what words to use to bring him down after. This was Daichi with lightning on his skin, crackling and dangerous and unpredictable. And he didn’t have any words for that.

But the silence wasn’t helping either.

“Aren’t you going you try and make me feel better?” Daichi asked after a minute, fists clenched in his lap. Suga swallowed, but held his tongue. “Aren’t you going to keep telling me what a great job Ennoshita did in my place, how he led you to victory?” He looked up then, and Suga wasn’t sure what he was seeing. There was confusion, and anger, but there was something else there, like a panic, a query. This wasn’t Daichi feeling bitter, this was Daichi feeling insecure.

“But you were there for-“

“NO BUTS SUGA!” He shot to his feet, knocking the stand to his right and sending the vase sat upon it flying. Instinctively, Suga dived after it, but he missed, and the ornament hit the floor with a clean, sharp crash. The glass scattered quickly, turning the metre around them into a sea of crystal. Neither of them moved, both holding their breath. And then Daichi sank back to his knees calmly and began picking the glass up with his bare hands.

“D-Daichi-San stop!” He looked around in horror, trying to find something else to clear up the mess, but the room was oddly bare, or the panic thrumming through his veins was making him blind “L-Let me get something else, stop, or you’re going to-“

“Agh!” Daichi groaned, and dropped the glass back to the floor. Suga gasped, feeling the panic slowly dissolving into frustration.

“Now if you’d just waited-“

“I can do it myself!” Daichi said loudly, and stood up, peering around himself in a rush.

Suga took a deep breath and pushed himself up, facing his boyfriend down angrily. “Just stop for a minute. Stop with this whole routine. You’ve been pitying yourself ever since we got off the bus. You don’t care about how well Chikara did, you just care about how it wasn’t you. You should be proud of him, he stepped up when you made an idiot move-“

“I did what needed to be done to keep the ball in play!” Daichi countered, gripping one hand between the other. Suga could see the blood welling up in his palm, creeping between his fingers, and falling gracelessly to the floor, one drop after another.

“And you got hurt. Badly. You were so…careless, and so reckless! Did you even stop to _think_ what would happen if you’d gotten hurt?”

“I don’t care if I get hurt Suga I care about winning, I care about doing the best for the team, no matter-ugh.” He cringed again, shaking out his hand and sending blood across the room. At that, Suga’s skin began to cool. By instinct he reached out for his hand but Daichi pulled it away, looking down at the gash himself. “We had everything, everything was perfect, and I was there, having everyone’s backs and then I wasn’t-“

“But we still _won_! It doesn’t matter who was on the court!“

“How can you say that? This is our last year Koushi, this is our last chance!”

“They’ll be other matches-“

“Don’t you understand!?” He lurched forward and grabbed the front of Suga’s shirt with his bloody hand. Suga froze, feeling his heart rate pick up, sweat spiking all over his body. “It feels like I betrayed them. It feels like I betrayed _you_. I wanted to be there when Asahi or Tanaka or Hinata made that final spike. _I wanted to be on the court!”_

And Suga could see, so close as their faces were now, the shine to Daichi’s eyes. For a moment he pitied him, but Daichi was their captain. They may look to Suga to keep them together sometimes, but Daichi needed to realise that he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be selfish like this. And Suga’s words of comfort weren’t going to tell him that.

“Stop being so pathetic.” He said quietly instead, and Daichi dropped his shirt, the shine giving way to crystal clear hurt. But he had to keep going. He _had_ to. “It doesn’t matter if you wanted to be on the court. Don’t you think I want to be on the court, to know how it feels when we get that fatal point? Every match I stand on the side lines and wish it were me in Tobio’s place, but I know it’s for the good of the team. I know he’s the best.”

He said all of this with clear intent, with loose fingers itching to reach out and hold his boy close, but he didn’t, because he knew that was what Daichi wanted.

And he couldn’t have what he wanted right now.

Suga had to do what was right for the _team._

“I thought you were better than this.” He finished quietly, and without provocation he gathered up his things and left Daichi to clean up his mess.

And the wind dried the tears on his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tooru I’m getting to the front of the line what do you want?” Suga whined into his phone, eyeing the barista just two customers ahead.

“You can’t just put me on the spot like that-“

“OIKAWA-KUN.”

“Are you forgetting my blind defeat yesterday or do you just expect me to not be a complete drama queen today.” He replied, and Suga could hear the smile in his voice. “And I’ll be five minutes. Get me my usual. You owe me.”

“Fine. See you in a few, idiot.”

“Dumbass.” And then he hung up.

“Can I get one…vanilla frappe, and one smoked butterscotch please.” He asked sweetly when it was his turn. The barista eyed the scarf around his neck, the psychedelic print on his phone case, and nodded. Suga just smiled a little wider. His date (Oikawa always insisted on calling them dates. Mate dates) was late, as usual, but showed his face just as Suga was looking around for a seat. The boy raised a hand and gestured flamboyantly to a corner table, pulling out the chair for Suga to sink into.

“One smoked butterscotch.” He said, sliding it across the table.

“I’m starting to wish I tried that green tea one.” He sighed, taking a sip. Suga shot him a glare Iwaizumi would have been proud of. “And by that look I’m guessing you didn’t order me here to discuss what colours your hair is going this summer.”

“My hair is going colours this summer?” Suga asked.

“Your hair is going colours this summer.” Oikawa confirmed, nodding brightly. “Now come Mr Refreshing, and tell me why we’re sat here mid-week and not Saturday afternoon like we planned.”

Suga took a sip of his drink, feeling his stomach coil with something more like panic than anger, remembering the night before. The storming and the raging, and the broken glass. The blood, the tears, the quiet anger, the simmering disappointment and confusion. Over all of it the confusion, with guilt laced through it like spun glass.

 Condensation dripped over his fingers as he clung to his cup to keep his composure. He was glad Oikawa had chosen a corner seat, away from the chatter, with the cool breeze visible; floating through leaves on the other side of the window. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and settle the tremble in his voice before it could begin.

“We had a fight. A big one. I got all wrapped up in why he’d been so reckless in our game yesterday and then he got angry-“

“Daichi-san? Angry?” Oikawa scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Do we know the same guy?”

“No.” Suga said simply, but sternly. “No, we don’t. Not a lot of people know that Daichi. He gets worked up sometimes sure, and the second years have seen it a lot but…they don’t see the Daichi I saw last night.”

He looked up to see the other boy staring out the window, sipping languidly on his frappe, like to Suga the world didn’t feel like it was ending. Like he didn’t care. Suga knew he cared, he knew if he asked for it, Tooru would put the drink down and listen. Really listen. Now though, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that. All he could feel was the guilt.

“Maybe I pushed him too far?” He said quietly, almost to himself. He could taste cream on his tongue, and underneath the bitter twang of coffee. There was something else too, something that threw the flavour off: vanilla lingering quietly in the background, complementing the other ingredients. Refreshing them. He always ordered the same drink – he liked the consistency, but most of all he knew what to expect. In volleyball, he never knew which way the winds were going to turn but here, drinking the same Frappuccino, with the same cheery Oikawa and the scent of Daichi’s cologne drifting up from the scarf around his neck, he felt grounded. He felt sure. Except in one thing. “I feel so helpless. Tell me what to do Tooru.”

He looked up with intent then, to see the other boy watching him carefully. And Oikawa knew. He knew this deserved more than a casual coffee date. He knew if it weren’t for the people around them Suga would be trembling and sobbing and losing all sense of himself. But good old Sugawara, always holding it together. It deserved a trashy movie, blankets and reassurance, and strong arms around him and safety. Oikawa knew that, but he knew that strong arm needed to be Daichi. Suga watched him smile instead, and lean over to pat his hand.

“You two are too honest with each other. I don’t know how you work half the time. I think you need to remember you’re teenagers and stop taking things so seriously.”

“But we _are_ , serious.”

“You can be serious without being… _serious_ , Suga-san. Stop trying to be his mother. Listen to him for once.”

Suga could feel the frustration beginning to fill his oesophagus, and he knew it was starting to show on his face. “I _do_ listen, but I just don’t understand.”

“Then you’re not listening.” Oikawa sighed, as calm as ever. “Stop trying to hear what you want to hear dumbass, and actually _listen._ ”

Suga pressed his fingers into his eyes and felt his heart beat twice as hard at the truth of the boy’s words. The guilt jumped in his stomach and the tears he’d been suppressing slid gently past his fingertips. He wiped them away quickly, and look desperately across at his friend.

“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” he asked weakly. Oikawa’s smile was different this time.

Suga swallowed hard.                   

 

* * *

 

 

It was actually practice the next day when Suga first saw Daichi again. He was sat cross legged across the room, having obviously been studying the papers in front of him at some point. Now though, he sat with his cheek resting on his hand, eyes closed as if where sleeping. He looked so young, it brought Oikawa’s words back to the forefront his mind. _‘Remember you’re teenagers and stop taking things so seriously.’_

He walked over slowly and dropped his bag about a metre away. Without much thought he began to gather the papers scattered across the space between them. Daichi began to stir just as he was tapping them back into a straight pile. Suga stopped moving, half torn between wanting to wake his boy up with a smile, and running from the room and pretending he was never there.

“Hmmm.” The boy hummed, wiping a hand across his face. “What time is it?” he asked hoarsely.

“4.” Suga answered shortly, standing up again.

Daichi only then seemed to realise who he was talking to. He sat up, meeting his eyes in a panic. Neither of them said anything. Not knowing where to start, not really knowing where they ended. They were both good with words but when they had been thrown with such force it was hard to come back to the softness of before. The gentle teasing, the murmured reassurances. Suga wanted to sink right back into it, into Daichi, and let the silence heal their bruises instead.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” He said quickly, just as Suga was opening his mouth. The words hit him like a ball to the stomach. _I’m sorry if I scared you._ Daichi was apologising for scaring him. He didn’t think about the blood and the screaming and the broken glass, he thought about that moment, when he’d lost control of his voice, and his anger, and for a moment Suga realised that he _had_ been scared. It wasn’t a case of who did what, who was in the wrong, who deserved the apology. Daichi was standing up with _sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you_ written so plainly on his face that Suga felt the breath leave his throat in one large gust.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted Daichi’s touch then, he wasn’t sure if his skin was crawling from need or fear or guilt. Because even now he felt the words _I’m sorry_ leaving his mouth too, and instead of the confusion and frustration, he felt an overwhelming need to hear his boy’s voice in explanation. He was ready to listen, and he needed Daichi to know that.

He took three small steps forward and wrapped his arms around Daichi’s neck, burying his face as deeply into his skin as possible. “I was scared.” He said into the space just beneath his ear. “But I was scared about why, not about what you did. Wouldn’t you be?” he pulled back a little, feeling Daichi’s hands come up across his lower back. “You could have really hurt yourself and I know…I know the team means everything to you, and winning, but I don’t want you to get hurt because of that. I didn’t think you’d go that far.”

Daichi was silent, looking somewhere past Suga’s right shoulder. When he met Suga’s eyes he looked terrified, more scared than he’d ever seen him. His heart sped up in his chest and if it weren’t for the overwhelming truth that Daichi needed to speak Suga would have wrapped him up there and then and told him everything was going to be okay.

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” He whispered “When you left I thought you’d never come back.”

Suga smiled.

“I’ll always comes back. There’s too much left for us. I’d never just go. Never.”

But he still looked distant, and Suga could see the parts of his brain moving against and with each other, placing the emtions of the day before and the current moment into boxes to be sealed and healed. He'd need a bit of time yet.

"We should watch a movie tonight." he suggested, chirping up and nudging Daichi's shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

"Y-you still want to come over?" he asked carefully, massaging one hand between the other. Suga tipped his head a little and smiled his softest smile. 

"Mhmm."

And Daichi buried his face in Suga’s shoulder until contentment tore them apart.

 

 

 

 


End file.
